We Could Be Heroes
by dragonfire806
Summary: The death of a young woman leads to the suspicions of a teenage boy who seems all but ordinary. I shall put a real summary here when I feel like it...
1. Accidental Teleportation

_We Could Be Heroes. (Title pending and it will make sense later.)  
>Umm yeah. Random fanfiction. I started writing this forever ago and am now finally touching back upon it. Chapter 1 is a sucky intro, but I promise it gets better.<br>OKAY, first thing's first! Don't shoot me down but throughout this I'm using my OC Matt and for my own enjoyment I'm making him Nathan and Meredith's son. So yep, that means he is Claire's younger brother and I'm also giving him the ability of empathic mimicry. Hate me or this story, but I don't plan to GM or PP with him either. Like I said, it's more for my own fantasy enjoyment...and ya know, who doesn't want to be related to Peter Petrelli? xD  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<br>~Accidental Teleportation**

The heat awoke me. That, and the fact that the air condition had turned off, the darkness had faded, and my comfortable bed had been exchanged for something lumpy and wet. I blinked a couple of times before registering where I was. There was grass and sand all around me and the sound of crashing waves. My conclusion was evident. I was at some sort of beach.

As the wind began to pick up, the sand began to blow in my face. I blinked rapidly, meanwhile trying to get to my feet. I was lying on my stomach in the middle of a grassy dune, not a clue how I had gotten there in the first place. As I tried to lift my body up, I realized there was weight on top of me. Something that felt oddly like another body.

Right then and there something dawned on me. That wetness I felt earlier…why did I have the feeling it could be blood? In a split second I wiggled free, feeling a sharp pain in my stomach as I did so. I winced at the dead girl in front of me and the amount of crimson spilled all over. There was something entirely wrong with this picture…

She was a young blonde—probably in her early twenties. And kind of cute—well except for the dead part. She was on her back, dressed in a zebra striped bikini. Her throat and abdomen were sliced and there looked to be a bullet wound in her forehead. And of course with all that, there was loads of blood.

But the odd thing was her blood wasn't that fresh. I estimated her to be about more than a couple hours dead. I'm no expert, but the blood on the front of me _was _fresh. Guess there was only one way to find out.

I lifted my T-shirt over my head and dropped it on to the sand. There was a bullet wound in my chest and a rather large gash in my stomach. To most people this would have been deadly and very painful.

Lucky for me I wasn't most people. I was sort of a genetic freak. I was special. I had abilities. Lots of abilities—well kind of. I was what you could call a human sponge. I was what my uncle had once been—an empath—bearing the ability of empathic mimicry. Of course, it does have its pros and cons but overall it is pretty awesome. (And if you're still clueless about what I'm talking about, I suggest you Google it.)

Anyway, I did feel pain…sometimes. I couldn't control whether I felt it or not, but usually if I did, it was only minor. I wasn't like Claire who no longer felt anything anymore. (Which by the way is the girl whom I borrowed cellular regeneration from.) Either way, I felt something now as I attempted to pick a bullet out of me. When I finally plucked it out, I watched as my wound faded away, new tissue replacing the old.

Now for my stomach cut. I couldn't remember what the hell happened to me, but I assumed I was stabbed with something rather sharp. I was guessing seashells maybe, only because I pulled out two large pieces of shell. This made me bleed some more. It also seemed to hurt more. And I was wondering why it wouldn't heal over like my other injury.

I could control whether I wanted it to heal or not, but right now, it didn't seem to be working. In fact, I couldn't get a lot of my powers to work on my own lately. I'm guessing that's how I got here in the first place. Accidental teleportation. Woops.

I glanced back down at my stupid gash, realizing I'd have to just deal with it for now. The only thing I could really do was press my T-shirt up against it. My white shirt...which was now stained red. But hey, I needed something to help stop the bleeding.

I didn't know how long I was standing here lost in my own thoughts, but I was glad no one had walked by. After all, I was technically in the middle of a crime scene-to-be. Which speaking of, I was now sure to be the number one suspect. My DNA was all over the sand and the girl and vice versa.

My shirt would be big evidence (not counting my blood stained body) but I'd have nowhere to hide it. I wasn't a criminal, so therefore I didn't think like one. I didn't know how to cover my tracks. I also didn't know what to do in a situation like this.

It'd probably be smart to call the police (well not in my case) but that didn't matter. I didn't have my cell phone with me. I'd left that back with New York...and my bed. Which, I wonder how far I am away from? Not to mention I was standing here half naked. I was on a beach but still it felt weird standing in boxers, looking around clueless to as where I was.

As I walked out of the grassy area I spotted a group of old people coming my way, carrying their assorted beachwear. I had no clue what the time was but I assumed it was early seeing at the beach was rather empty. I didn't want to take my chances of being seen by others but my options were kind of low. I thought about resulting to invisibility but who knows how that would have turned out if I couldn't control my powers properly.

Slowly, I edged forward. I was panicking inside but I didn't show it. I tried to stay calm as I secretly prayed for a miracle. They were coming towards me at nine o'clock. I glanced at the sand and spotted a beach towel. My eyes lit up.

So what if it had Hannah Montana on it. No big deal. A towel was a towel. I kept one hand pressing the shirt against me and the other holding the towel around me like a cape. Luckily it was big enough to cover me. Or more so, lucky I found it in the first place.

Just thank God there were no police around. But of course as soon as I would say something…I would hear sirens. Just my luck, right?

I was anxious and somewhat scared. I didn't want to be wrapped up in this mess. I wanted to go back to bed and relax. I knew that wasn't happening though. As much as I wanted this to be a dream, I knew it was not.

I was walking along the pavement now. The cement was rough against my feet but I made do. I had no clue where I was going but anywhere far from here would be good…


	2. Just Another Hunch

**Chapter 2  
>~Just Another Hunch<strong>

"Shawn, where are we going?" Gus asked. "And it better be good if you woke me up this early. It's eight o'clock in the morning and I haven't had my scrambled eggs yet—"  
>"Gus, yes it's early…but we found a body."<br>"No Shawn, you did _not_ find a body. You're just dragging me on a hunch you have."  
>"My hunch is correct," Shawn stated.<br>"It's a hunch," Gus butt in, "it can't be correct."  
>"But it is."<br>Gus rolled his eyes. Shawn was impossible sometimes—actually all the time.

The sirens were getting louder as a few cop cars cruised by.  
>"Oh no," Shawn started, "we can't let Lassie beat us!"<br>"Maybe if you would stop driving like a little old lady, we would actually get there," Gus mentioned.  
>"Dude, I can't go above the speed limit."<br>"Like you never do it?"  
>"Yes Gus, because I never actually get the chance to drive."<br>"That's because it's _my_ car, Shawn. And if you hadn't kidnapped me and my keys, you wouldn't be sitting in that seat right now."  
>"You're right, Gus."<p>

Shawn smiled. He pushed harder on the pedal. They began to pick up speed which left Gus wishing he never said anything in the first place. Before the light could turn red, Shawn made a sharp turn to the right. The beach was in distance now.

Abruptly he stopped by the sidewalk, placing the car into park.  
>Gus looked at Shawn, "You're never driving my car again."<br>"Why?" Shawn asked. "I drive just as bad as you do."  
>Shawn stepped out of the car. Gus however did not move, he only stared back at Shawn through the open window.<br>"Gus, aren't you coming?" Shawn questioned.  
>"The beach is half a block up. Why are we parked over here?"<br>"It's good exercise," replied Shawn. "And besides, I want to stroll in from behind with the _I-told-you-so look_."

Reluctantly, Gus exited the car.  
>"Hey, I'm also saving you on gas," Shawn added.<br>"Thank you," Gus said in a sarcastic tone.  
>It was evident Gus wasn't exactly fully awake. He didn't appreciate being dragged out of bed to go to the scene of a murder. It wasn't the first time either.<p>

As they walked down the street, they passed by a teenage boy wrapped in a girlish towel. Shawn did a double take before noticing it had Hannah Montana on it. He laughed and glanced at Gus, who didn't look as amused as he did.  
>"Maybe he's a fan," Gus suggested. "Although, he didn't look too thrilled about it."<br>"Like you," Shawn pointed out. "Don't deny that I've caught you listening to Smiley Citrus before."  
>"It's <em>Miley Cyrus<em>, Shawn. And it was one time."

They were a couple feet away when Juliet O'Hara waved to them. Immediately the two of them ran over. They didn't get too far before the police circled around something in the grass off to the right.

With a smile Shawn joined the police in staring at the dead blonde. "I believe I was right," he said turning to Gus. "You owe me five bucks."  
>"I never made a bet," Gus made clear, "I owe you nothing."<br>Before Shawn could interrupt with more nonsense, Jules spoke first. "I think this is our missing person."  
>"The description does seem to fit her," Gus added.<p>

"Shawn, what do you think?" Jules turned to face him, only to find he wasn't standing there anymore. "Shawn?"  
>"I'm over here, Jules!" Shawn called back.<br>He was standing on the other side now, watching Carlton Lassiter address a little girl and her mother.

"You saw nothing?" Lassiter asked.  
>"We've only been on the beach for about ten minutes. We started west, then headed this way, running into you," the woman replied honestly. "We saw or heard nothing unusual. I'm sorry we couldn't help. It's really a shame what happened to her."<br>"Can I ask a question now?" the little girl muttered.  
>"Honey, let the police man do his work. We best get going…" the woman whispered, trying to shun her daughter from the tragic matter a couple feet away.<br>"Mister, have you seen my Hannah Montana beach towel? I lost it yesterday but maybe it's still here."  
>"No I have not, sorry. But if we find it, we'll be sure to return it to you."<p>

Lassiter watched as a cop escorted them away from the beach. Meanwhile Shawn approached him, laughing as he did so.  
>"What's so funny, Spencer?" Carlton's sweet smile disappeared.<br>"I never knew you could sound so sweet towards little children, Lassie. It was actually kind of cute. Did you mean it? Because otherwise you might be breaking that little girl's heart when you don't show up at her doorstep with that towel," Shawn replied. "Oh and…I hate to tell you I told you so."  
>Lassiter's face fell. "Shut it Spencer."<br>Carlton looked just a grumpy as Gus had this morning. But then again, that was always how Lassiter acted around Shawn.

"This is our missing person, Marissa Cooper," Lassiter started as he began to examine the body. "It looks like knife wounds and a bullet to the head but no signs of a struggle."  
>"Lassie, I believe we are missing another missing person."<br>"Spencer, what are you talking about?"  
>Shawn raised a brow. Stepping closer, he pointed a finger at the red sand beside Marissa. "All that blood could be from here, but it's unlikely. You see, if it was from her, the stomach wounds would be more sand than blood. And it doesn't look as if she has moved from her backside."<p>

"Are you saying there should be two bodies?" Carlton sighed.  
>"Yes. I'm glad you're catching on, Lassie."<br>"So where is this other body, _psychic_?"  
>"I don't appreciate that tone of voice."<br>"Spencer, I don't have time for—"  
>"Maybe the body walked away," Gus added in.<p>

"Zombies aren't real, Gus," Shawn frowned.  
>"I never said anything about zombies," Gus said quietly.<br>"But you were hinting at it," Shawn said back.  
>"If they lost that much blood, they should be dead...not walking away," cut in Jules. "But it shouldn't matter. As long as they didn't cover their tracks, there's evidence everywhere."<p>

"Well, I guess we're done here," stated Carlton.  
>"Wait!" Shawn said loudly.<br>"What now? There's nothing we can do at the moment," Lassiter answered.  
>"That little girl—what kind of towel did she lose again?" Spencer placed his fingers at his temples, pretending to have one of his <em>psychic<em> moments. "Oh right—Hannah Montana—! Gus and I saw some kid walking down the street with one…"

"Coincidence? I think not," Gus chimed in. "It was wrapped around him. He could have easily been hiding something."  
>"So maybe he took a swim, found a free towel and decided to dry off?" Lassie suggested.<br>"No," Shawn stated, "he wasn't wet. In fact, it's so hot you don't need a towel to dry. I also don't think he would have taken the towel unless he absolutely needed it anyway."

"Spencer, that is absolutely ridiculous!" Carlton shouted.  
>"Yeah Shawn, I have to agree with him on that," Jules muttered. "He could have stolen it…or picked it up because he felt like it."<br>"I mean, what could he possibly be hiding?" Gus asked.  
>"Drugs, alcohol, who knows!" Shawn yelled. "Or a gun. A knife. Blood. Maybe…just maybe that blood was from him."<p>

Shawn's theories had gotten him nowhere. He knew it sounded abstract, but hey, it was possible. There was no doubt that the boy could have been a secret murderer. It was a crazy world. Filled with crazy people.

Despite what everyone else thought, Shawn knew there was something up. There was just something in the boy's face. A sort of nervous tension. But then again, it was just another hunch. His last one had proven right but there was no say about this one. Still, this boy was a person of interest.


	3. Smoothies and Zombies

**Chapter 3  
>~Smoothies and Zombies<strong>

Strolling into the Santa Barbara Police Department was Shawn and his best friend Gus, each quietly sipping their smoothies as they made a casual entrance.  
>"Shawn!" a voice greeted. Although, it was more of an attention grabber than anything, seeing as it came from Henry Spencer himself.<br>"Dad—"  
>"I already put you on the case," Henry interrupted.<br>"—you should really try this smoothie."  
>"It tastes just like heaven," Gus added with a smile.<br>"Did either of you hear me?" Henry asked, his interest dropping.

"I know," Shawn said simply.  
>"You know?" Henry repeated.<br>"Yes," Shawn answered, "Jules called me earlier, saying that you agreed to put us on the case and that we should head over as soon as we could."  
>"Of course that was an hour ago," Jules' voice chimed in.<br>"Gus and I went out for lunch," Shawn added, "and then went to the grand opening of Smoothie King—just up the street from here."

"So that's what that yellow stuff is?" This time it was Lassiter's voice. He had seemingly appeared from nowhere and was standing beside O'Hara, nearby Henry's desk.  
>"It's pineapple," Shawn stated while tapping against the plastic cup, "and it's made of delicious flavor. Gus on the other hand got something as atrocious as <em>leorange<em>."  
>"It is lemon orange and it's actually not that bad," Gus admitted.<p>

"We didn't have you come here to talk about smoothies, Shawn," Henry said.  
>"Did I mention it was free?" Shawn whispered. "Up until five o'clock they're just giving—"<br>"Spencer!" Lassie snapped.  
>"Yeah, yeah…I'm here to work on the case," Shawn mumbled.<br>"Do we have any leads?" Gus spoke first.  
>"I was getting to that, Guster." As Lassie plopped a file onto Henry's desk, both Spencers edged closer to take a peak.<p>

"Wait!" Lassie commanded, slapping a hand down on the manila folder. "I'm reading it."  
>Shawn placed his smoothie on the desk, in return getting a glare from his father. Shawn only smiled, his eyes returning to Lassie who was pulling a few papers out of the folder.<br>"There were traces of blood at the scene and on the body that did_ not_ match the victim," O'Hara started. "Like Shawn said, there was another body. We're not sure if this person is the killer yet, but things do look suspicious."

"It took a hell lot of calls to trace who the blood belonged to, but we finally got someone to send us a file on him," Lassie added, holding the papers up to show everyone.  
>"So it's a <em>him<em>," Shawn said to Gus. "We were both close."  
>"You were more than close," O'Hara corrected.<br>"It's a kid?" Gus was almost scared to ask.

"The blood matched a sixteen year old from Manhattan, New York," Carlton stated. "Is this the boy you saw yesterday?" Lassiter handed a picture to Gus which was immediately snatched up by Shawn.  
>"That's him!" Shawn and Gus said in unison.<br>Lassiter seemed surprised, yet continued on with his confrontation. "His name is Matt Petrelli. Both of his parents are dead. He has a biological sister, a stepmom, and two half brothers. He currently lives with his uncle, who has full custody or sometimes with his grandmother. His record is clean—"

"We looked up the few Petrellis in this area and there were no relations—"  
>"Which led us to as why a teenager would be alone this far away from home without any type of guardian—"<br>"So we called the grandmother and uncle and we are bringing them in for questioning…" Lassiter finished.  
>Shawn looked confused but didn't say anything. He was amused that Lassie and Jules had explained the situation "taking turns" every other.<p>

"I don't know what to say," Gus muttered. "Teenagers can't exactly afford to run away half way across the United States, can they? Unless, do you think he was kidnapped?"  
>"His father was a former congressman and senator—so he had money. He could have easily stolen some to run away from home. We've had many cases such as that," Lassie stated.<br>"You said his record's clean though," Shawn said. "If he had broken some type of law, if he was wanted for murder or theft, or if he had gone missing—surely the police would have been notified?"

"Well," Jules started, "we'll be bringing in his current guardians and until further questioning, we'll be searching for him."  
>"With wanted posters?" Shawn suggested.<br>Lassie tried not to laugh. "No…but we'll have to contact the media with a full description, seeing as our number one suspect could be a murderer."  
>"Something smells fishy…" Shawn narrowed his eyes.<br>"That's because McNab's eating a tuna sandwich," Gus pointed out, pointing to the cop a couple feet away.  
>"That's what it is," Shawn muttered. "But I also meant the case, Gus. It's just weird…"<p>

* * *

><p>It was around seven at night and still they had no leads on the case, either from Lassie or by themselves. The Psych office was quiet and dim, mostly due to the fact that two of the lightbulbs were out.<br>"Dude, are you ever going to change those bulbs?" Shawn asked, tearing apart the remains of his sub. He was lazing on the couch watching _Phineas and Ferb_ while Gus quietly played a game of online checkers.  
>"I told you to change them," Gus said back. "Since you're not doing anything."<br>"Whaaat?" Shawn said with a mouthful of roll. "I'm clearly busy."

"Watching children's cartoons," Gus added.  
>"So?" Shawn said. "I've seen you watch <em>Scooby-Doo<em> before."  
>"That's different. It's a classic."<br>"What does that even mean?" Shawn blurted. "Both are clearly good kid shows."  
>"Forget it Shawn," Gus sighed. "But shouldn't you be solving the case? It seems to me like you're slacking."<br>Shawn laughed. "What are you doing? Oh right—playing internet checkers with other people with no lives."

"Excuse me?" Gus muttered. "That's it Shawn. We're going to do something. We're going to the store to get lightbulbs and fresh air. You've been watching TV for—"  
>Shawn sat up quickly, throwing his sandwich to the table. "I can't believe it!"<br>"What?" Gus asked, peering at Shawn from behind his laptop.  
>"I left my smoothie on my dad's desk," Shawn frowned.<br>Gus rolled his eyes. "That's what has been on your mind? You should be worrying over the case."  
>"It doesn't make sense…yet," Shawn admitted.<p>

Gus smiled. Shutting his laptop down, he then looked up at his friend. "Then let's start at the beginning. How did you know Marissa's body would be there?"  
>"That's easy," Shawn stated, "Mrs. Cooper lied to us."<br>"What?" Gus cocked a brow. "You never explained any of this to me or to Lassiter."  
>"I gave you all the brief version, which led to my hunch."<br>"Okay. Explain."  
>"When Mrs. Cooper called the police to say that her daughter was missing, it had already been two days. She said that she called her daughter's cell and that Marissa never called back or answered. Well, according to Mrs. Cooper's phone records, there were five short phone calls received on that second day by Marissa."<p>

"So she did talk to her daughter?"  
>"Her mom's paranoid. She has a habit of calling every couple of hours to check in on her only daughter. She also…"<br>Shawn's words faded away. His eyes were fixated on something outside the window.  
>"Shawn?" Gus asked, his eyes following the direction of Shawn's.<br>"Do you see it too, Gus?" Shawn cocked his head.  
>Gus nodded his head, his mouth agape.<br>"What is that?" Shawn asked.  
>"You mean, <em>who <em>is that?" Gus corrected.

Shawn blinked. Outside of the newly replaced glass window, with the Psych logo imprinted on it, was a young boy standing awkwardly in nothing but a pair of boxers. He was staring back at them, the light outside occasionally flickering to illuminate his blank expression.  
>"It's a zombie," Shawn stated, looked over at his friend.<br>"Don't say that, Shawn."  
>"Relax, it's just a kid—well, a creepy kid."<br>As the light flickered outside again, Gus let out something that sounded oddly like a whimper. "He's covered in blood, Shawn."  
>"We need a new light outside too…" Shawn whispered to himself. "But you're right Gus, he is... Gus, he's covered in <em>blood<em>!"

As the two of them turned to face each other, they both let out a girlish scream. Gus ran over to his desk, hoping to hide behind it; meanwhile Shawn ran back to the couch frantically looking for his phone.  
>"What are we going to do, Shawn?" Gus whispered.<br>"I'm calling the police," Shawn whispered back. "And where are you? I can't see you, Gus."  
>"I'm hiding, Shawn. Ya know, in case the zombie comes in and tries to eat our brains."<br>"Is he even still there?" Shawn questioned, hiding his face behind a pillow. As the ringing of the phone was replaced with a voice, Shawn blurted quickly, "Zombie!"

"Shawn?"  
>"Lassie?"<br>"Shawn, it's me!"  
>"Oh, dad. What are you still doing there?" Shawn whispered into the phone. "Never mind, don't answer that! Dad, I need you to listen carefully…there's a boy covered in blood standing outside our window…in boxers. Gus thinks it's a zombie hungry for brains—"<br>"_Shawn_!" his dad yelled. "Slow down. What the hell are you talking about?"  
>"Shawn…he's not at the window anymore."<br>"Please be quiet, Gus. Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Shawn shot back at his friend.  
>"He's…right in front of you."<p>

"Shawn, tell me again what's happening?" Henry Spencer queried on the other line.  
>"Are you telling me that if I move this pillow away from my face…there's going to be—"<br>Gus didn't let his friend finish before he let out a strange whining sound. Daringly, Shawn moved the pillow away slowly, his expression changing to a more frightened one.  
>"SHAWN!" his father yelled.<br>Shawn dropped the phone and stared up at the figure. "I have one request before you do whatever with me," he whispered ever so quietly. "...wait a second…haven't I seen you before?"


End file.
